


a private smile

by maketea



Series: kiss me on the mouth and set me free [3]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Identity Reveal, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22161985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maketea/pseuds/maketea
Summary: a private smile turned to a private kiss.(and a few private secrets that marinette had to tell).
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: kiss me on the mouth and set me free [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1556365
Comments: 34
Kudos: 399





	a private smile

**Author's Note:**

> [ _50 types of kisses: prompt 32 - a kiss so passionate, so perfect - that after they part, neither person can open their eyes for a few moments afterwards._ ](https://kashimalin-fanfiction.tumblr.com/post/178524845380/50-types-of-kisses-writing-prompts)  
> this was requested by the same anon who asked for prompt 11 (hotel suite ground rules)!  
> pls comment / send me an [_ask on tumblr_](https://rosekasa.tumblr.com/ask) with a request from [_this prompt list_](https://kashimalin-fanfiction.tumblr.com/post/178524845380/50-types-of-kisses-writing-prompts)

“Eat up,” Marinette said, and proffered Tikki a handful of three macarons. “You deserve it.”

With a quick thank you, Tikki licked her lips, and dug in. God knows she needed it — really, they both did.

Adrien was Chat Noir.

Hawk Moth hadn’t been holding back on akumas, lately, and that battle was no exception. When their Miraculous gave their warning beeps, she and Chat Noir dove into an alleyway, standing back to back, as their transformations wore off. They chose a safer place, this time. No puddles with revealing reflections. No shiny shop windows that their identities might be accidentally glimpsed through. All they had to do was keep their eyes forward, and feed their kwamis.

If it had happened any other way, perhaps Marinette wouldn’t have been so hard on herself. But it was the stupidity of her mistake that made her furious.

Because when the akuma shattered the windows on a building somewhere far behind her, Marinette didn’t think, and her head jerked around to the direction of the sound. 

To the direction of Chat Noir’s blond hair, the fair nape of his neck, and the back of his white overshirt that may as well have had _Agreste_ stitched into the very seams.

But it didn’t end there — not at all. Because Marinette decided to _speak_.

“Adrien?” she had said, and Chat Noir jolted. He, too, started to look around, started to make the same _stupid_ mistake that she had made, but caught himself in the nick of time.

Marinette couldn’t forget the sideways sight of his lashes lifting, eyes widening, pupils constricting into pricks against his green, unmistakably _Adrien’s_ eyes, before he snapped his head back to the front. 

They stayed silent after that. Eyes forward. Feeding their kwamis. Chat Noir’s name sticking to the mosaic of bricks on either side of them, and Marinette wondering just how much he saw when he had turned.

Yeah. Marinette needed a macaron or three.

She jumped when Tikki did, though Tikki followed up by zipping straight up to the chaise and phasing into her throw cushion. Left with two macarons in her fist, Marinette looked around. Her hatch was shut, and when she listened carefully, all she could hear was her father humming from downstairs. 

A knock resounded at her window. Marinette jumped again, barely keeping the macarons in her hand, and whirled around. 

Chat Noir — Adrien — looked back at her, bowed so he could peer into her bedroom beneath the arch. He caught her gaze, then pointed up, clambering away from the window and up to her balcony. Marinette rushed up the stairs, onto her bed, flung open the skylight, and hauled herself up, too.

“I didn’t expect to see a superhero on my balcony tonight,” she joked. He was balanced on the railing, easing his way down. Marinette approached him, offered a helping hand, before realising it was filled with macarons.

“Oh— yeah.” The roses on the railing trembled as he jumped down. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He eyed her. “Aren’t you cold?”

Well.

She _should_ have been cold.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng the civilian would have been shivering as soon as she stepped out onto the balcony. At that time of year, at that time of day, when she would usually unwrap herself from her blankets, shut the window, and turn the heating on, Marinette Dupain-Cheng the civilian wouldn’t have lasted two minutes on her balcony.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng the part time superhero, however, was a bit different.

Especially that particular evening. The run back to her house was long, and the sweat on her skin stuck to her even after releasing her transformation. On her feverish skin, in her feverish lungs, the cold air felt rather nice.

But Chat Noir — _Adrien_ , he was Adrien, too — didn’t know about that. Depending on how much he saw in the alleyway.

“Not really,” she said. “It’s pretty hot in my room, anyway.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you out here too long. I’d better get going—”

With her free hand, Marinette caught Chat Noir’s wrist on its way to his baton. _“Wait.”_

“Yeah?”

She clammed up. He was looking at her, eyebrows quirked, and the longer she stayed leaning into his personal space with her fingers so tight around his arm, the weirder it got.

Marinette looked down at the fist she had around him, then snatched it away, hiding it behind her back.

“Could you stay awhile?” she finally asked.

“Out here? What if you catch a cold?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” She produced the two, now crumbly, pink macarons in her other hand. “Want one?”

Amused, he plucked one for himself. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Together, they approached the railing and looked out at the street. As Rue Gotlib dimmed, the lampposts peppered around began to flicker on. Marinette watched as the one she had hauled herself on top of mid-battle struggled to keep its light steady. 

“That was quite a hit you took out there,” she said to him, but, after the silence they had lapsed into, it sounded almost as if she were saying it to herself.

“Huh? Oh, that…” He chuckled, and scratched the back of his head. “That was nothing.”

“It didn’t look like nothing.”

The akuma had been about to send a blast straight into her bedroom. Of course, she was safe — as safe as she could get on the ground, squared up with a supervillain and equipped with a magic yo-yo — so it was probably even _good_ that the blast was being wasted on an empty room. Ladybug would rather have her room turned upside down than a civilian.

Chat Noir didn’t exactly get the memo (though it wasn’t like Ladybug could give him one, anyway).

He had lifted his baton and pulled himself right into the akuma’s line of blast, which effortlessly knocked him down and smacked him into the concrete. He lay there, scrunched up and groaning, rubbing his bruised (if he was lucky) ribs, while Ladybug stared in horror.

“It must have hurt,” Marinette continued. “I wasn’t even at home.”

“Oh?” He cocked a brow. “Then how’d you see me?”

She froze, and almost choked on her macaron.

_Did he know?_

How much could he have seen in that alleyway, when he turned his head? How fully was _she_ turned? It was overcast the whole day, but had there been sunlight above them? On her face? Or was she cast in a shadow, unrecognisable, faceless and identiless other than _Ladybug_?

Would it be that bad if he knew?

She trod lightly, like her secret was a beast ready to rear its head if she placed her foot down just a little too hard. 

“I was in the area,” she said carefully. “Coming home from… Alya’s place.”

Marinette didn’t look at him, but there was a smile to his voice. “I’m glad you didn’t get hurt too bad, then.”

Other than her own blast — the one that skimmed past her left ear and burst her eardrum. Thank God for her Miraculous cure.

She hadn’t realised she was playing with her earring until a heavier silence stretched between them. 

“Superheroes have to be careful, too, don’t they?” she asked.

“And I was,” he said. “I’m fine, aren’t I?”

“Just because you’re _fine_ doesn’t mean you were careful. You should’ve been listening to Ladybug.”

“Which part didn’t I listen to, little lady?” He was enjoying this, and she wanted to hit him. She was _scolding_ him.

Marinette faced him, and jabbed a finger into his chest. “The part about covering her so she could break the akumatized object!”

He raised his eyebrows.

Marinette’s face fell. Shakily, she retracted her hand.

“I had no clue my lady was keeping you privy to our battle plans,” he said.

She wetted her lips. Turning away, she rested her arms on the railing. She was beginning to feel the temperature drop.

“Sh-she’s not,” Marinette said. “I just overheard.”

“From your walk back from Alya’s?”

“From my walk back from Alya’s.”

She had little trust in herself to speak, after that. A few moments passed where they looked out over her balcony, silent. Rush hour ebbed away, and the street near her house began to quieten.

"Hey, Chat Noir?" she said.

"Yeah?"

"Why'd you do it?" Marinette looked at him. "Why didn't you listen to Ladybug?"

At that, he averted his gaze. Chat Noir smiled softly — a private little smile. Marinette would've thought it was something just for him, if he hadn't caught her eyes last minute.

It was a smile for _them._

"I didn't want to see you get hurt," he said gently.

Neither turned away. They stood on her balcony, face-to-face. A private moment, a private smile. 

Then, she dove towards him like he dove towards her, and his arms were around her, her hands on his cheeks, and she was kissing him.

The first thing that came to mind was how simultaneously they came together. It was weird, wasn’t it — how they were drawn together by the same force, at the same time? The second thing was how they were on her balcony, grasping for each other and reaching for each other, where anyone — even her _parents_ , if they stepped outside — could tilt their head up, and see them.

A private smile to a private kiss, on a balcony, showcasing their lo— their… whatever it was — to whoever could see.

But Marinette made no move to break away. She stood on her tiptoes and leaned up, as far as she could go on her shaky legs, and he clutched her to his chest, cupping her shoulder blade.

She released his cheek to wrap an arm around his shoulders. Now, Marinette was almost off her feet. Chat Noir held her up in his embrace, strong and unyielding, and her tiptoes, pertaining to their name, were really only on the tips. On air, was the word she was looking for — Marinette was walking on air.

Kissing Chat Noir.

Her partner.

Whose identity she knew.

Adrien Agreste dressed as Chat Noir was pressed so tight against Marinette, she could feel the contours of his muscles print against her abdomen, and was kissing her.

She pulled her lips away from his with a smack.

Any moment now, she would open her eyes.

She would banish the aftertaste of his lips — peach, was it? From the macaron, or something else? Had it been lip balm, lip gloss, lipstick from a last minute photoshoot? Had he known they’d kiss, and came prepared? 

Marinette shivered — at the concept, or at his hands stroking long lines down her spine, she wasn’t sure.

First, it was her fingers that moved. Twitched against his cheekbones and warm skin. Slipped down, over his jaw line, and finally reached his collarbones, where they balled into fists that she could be certain wouldn’t wander anywhere.

 _Like in his hair, back to his cheek, perhaps on his back as she pulled him in again and tried tasting his lips from another angle_.

The wind blew against her febrility. Marinette peered up at Chat Noir.

He smiled — their private smile. 

Her eyes closed again, and she brought her mouth into a firm line. “I have to tell you something.”

A private smile turned into a private laugh. It was soft and ragged, laced with breathlessness that could have only come from the sort of embrace they shouldn’t be having on a balcony.

“Go ahead, My Lady.”

**Author's Note:**

> not proud of this one lads
> 
> twitter: [maketca](https://twitter.com/maketca)  
> tumblr: [rosekasa](https://rosekasa.tumblr.com)


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